ver. 2 of the runaway bride thing with katsuki -> ver. 1 here!!
katsuki bakugou x reader
rounding another corner, you collide with something solid - a wall, your first instinct tells you, right before it’s proven wrong - warmth exuding from the unidentified object and a slight “hmpfh” escaping it at the collision. a pair of hands, big and gloved and warm as well, fly up to your upper arms then, steadying you as you stumble backwards with the force, but they’re gone before you can process what is happening.
taking in the blur of black and orange in front of you as you look up, it must be a man, you think, blinking away your tears frantically, searching for a face- and you find it, half-hidden behind a high black collar, piercing red eyes looking down at you, burning through you, from in between a black mask - it is a mask, you realize belatedly - under a shock of light blond hair.
later you blame it on the state you’re in, crying, panicky and on edge, vision blurred by heavy tears bubbling up around you, that it takes you so long to place what you’re looking at, who you’re looking at right now. who is looking at you.
but your mind catches up eventually: it’s dynamight, the pro-hero. (number seven on the charts these days, a part of you remembers distantly, on the way of moving up; famous for his number of solved cases, of villain defeats, and even more famous for his temper - explosive, on a short fuse and utterly all-encompassing.) you realize that as your brain catches up with your body, finally, realizing the situation you’ve found yourself in, taking another step back with a slight gasp as you properly take in his (why are you thinking about this now?) handsome face, features surprisingly delicate for a man so… intense, but you have to admit, the media isn’t overestimating his beauty one bit, even as he glowers down at you like he is doing now.
“sorry,” you mumble wetly (your mother would chastise you for even deigning to show your face in public looking like this: tear-stained and frazzled, let alone speaking to another person in such an impolite way, but for once, you’re at a loss as you face your impossible situation-
(the situation that burns through your surroundings with a glare that could level buildings through sheer willpower alone, you’re sure)
and his - dynamight’s, you remind yourself disbelievingly - eyes land back on you at your voice, taking in your smudged makeup, messy hair and the veil trailing off it, a few of the needles fastening it in place having fallen off in your escape, down to your dress, a pearly white, heaps of chiffon, tulle and silk, finished off with frilly lace at the hems and entirely too much- nothing you would have ever chosen for yourself, if you’d had any say in it. your parents (again, mostly your mother; your father only ever nodding along faithfully to her ideas) and your fiancé had loved it- oh god, you think, your fiancé, the one you just ran away from; left at the altar like in some stupid movie - stomach twisting as you clutch your dress tighter, wrinkling the expensive fabrics for sure, inhaling shakily.
the man in front of you - the man, you remind yourself, as intimidating as he was, like an animal on the hunt, larger than life it seems like to you, but he is still just a man - lets out a grunt, a non-answer, and his eyes narrow at you even more.
by now, the tiny voice in the back of your head is back to yelling at you, telling you to keep going, that you have to go, and you turn slightly, moving to step around the man in front of you, bowing and apologising once more. before you can keep moving, however, his voice stops you.
“you, uh,” your eyes find his face again as he speaks, unexpectedly, and he looks- ugly, in a way, twisting his face in an incredibly unflattering fashion; delicate features morphing into a grimace as he looks like he just smelled something unpleasant, and he continues, almost strained, “y’good?”
impossibly, you almost feel like laughing - almost, at the sheer difficulty he seems to be experiencing, asking whether you’re good, but you don’t, the fabric that is still tightly crumpled in your hands a constant reminder of the absolute shitshow of a situation you are in now.
“yes,” you answer almost reflexively, wiping at your tears while you sniffle, surely smudging the makeup running down your face into an even worse picture, before shaking the glittering bubbles off your fingers. you think you imagine the way his ruby eyes flicker to them, to their rainbow iridescence and flickering spray, before landing back on your face, his expression changing back into something more subdued, jaw clicking, visibly annoyed.
“there a villain on yer ass’r something?” he asks then, and this time you can’t help yourself, you sputter out a laugh, loud and ridiculous and half-spurred on by your panic, the hero opposite you furrowing his brows underneath his mask, as you imagine your mother, looming over you with claws and fangs, snarling as she tells you about the newest blind date she’s arranged while you cower in fear at the prospect of meeting another man that is as uninteresting as the one before him, as vain.
(no, not a villain, although things would surely be a lot simpler that way, you think bitterly, meanly, laugh already dead in your throat.)
“no,” you say to him, then, “but i-“ gotta go, you want to say, already form your mouth around the syllables, when you feel a new wave of tears on your face, startling both you and him, it seems, bright sparkles in your vision, the sound of bubbles popping surrounding the two of you.
you’re wasting time, you know that. precious time, and you don’t want to face them again.
(you’ll have to, eventually, you know that, but not right now - not this soon.)
you make a frustrated noise, wiping at your eyes with open palms now, and take a look around. you’re in some busy street, shops and traffic equally congested with people trying to get from one place to another, paying the two of you almost no mind besides a few confused glances and the occasional awestruck kid with wide eyes locked onto the hero before you - perks of living in a big city, you guess - but you don’t recognise where you are. it crosses your mind that you must’ve ran for quite a while now, and you realise that you’re probably lost, with no way of knowing how to get to your apartment.
great.
a sigh escapes you at the thought, and you take in the man, the hero, in front of you. a civil servant. you suppose he could serve as a replacement for the phone you left behind at the venue, so, around the lump in your throat, you ask, “where exactly are we right now?”
those ruby red eyes observe you for a moment longer, calculating.
“downtown”, he grunts then, “what, you never been here before?”
he raises an eyebrow suspiciously, and you feel the need to defend yourself, so you retort, albeit a bit childishly, “of course i have, just not… well, here.” you put your hands on your hips. “could you, uh,” those eyes are still boring into you, “could you point me towards the nearest train station?” when he doesn’t move a muscle, you add, “please?”
